


Uneasy Lies the Head

by ChaoticDemon



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Arthur feels, Episode: s04e12-13 The Sword in the Stone, Hand Jobs, M/M, Magic Revealed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-13
Updated: 2016-12-13
Packaged: 2018-09-03 05:33:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8699095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaoticDemon/pseuds/ChaoticDemon
Summary: It's not that Arthur still feels unworthy. Really, it's not.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [daroh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/daroh/gifts).



> I'm still getting used to writing sexy times, so hopefully that bit turned out well.

“You’re still up?” Merlin asked, crouching down next to where Arthur was sitting. His chainmail glittered in the firelight. Leon and Percival lay nearby, both fast asleep. Most of the camp was, by this point. There were only a few people who had chosen to stand guard. Merlin could barely make out their forms in the distance.

Arthur looked up from the sword in his lap, the same one he had pulled from the stone. He gave Merlin a small smile. “I couldn’t sleep,” he said. “I can’t stop thinking.”

Merlin glanced down at the sword. “I might be able to help you take your mind off of things for a little while, if you like.” He looked back up at Arthur and grinned at his expression.

“Alright,” Arthur said. Merlin gave a significant look back at the sword and Arthur carefully moved it off of his lap, setting it on the ground beside him. “How are we going to do this?” he asked. “We don’t want to wake anyone up.”

Merlin shifted his weight so that he was kneeling in front of Arthur. “No,” he said, “we definitely wouldn’t want that.” He reached out and cupped Arthur’s chin in his hand. Merlin stroked his thumb over it. Gently, he kissed Arthur’s forehead. “I have an idea,” he continued, “but you’re going to have to be quiet. Do you think you can manage that?”

Arthur nodded. His eyes were very dark. Merlin tugged at Arthur’s belt, pulling it undone with the ease of practice. He could feel Arthur’s penis begin to harden through the fabric of his trousers. Merlin licked his palm before he winked at Arthur and dug his hand into Arthur’s clothes, wrapping his hand around Arthur’s dick. Arthur cursed softly. One of his gloved hands came up to grasp at Merlin’s shoulder.

“You like that?” Merlin asked, beginning the familiar movements. Arthur didn’t answer him; he moved the hand that was clutching at Merlin’s shoulder to cradle the side of Merlin’s face. They locked eyes with each other. Merlin could feel himself begin to harden. He tugged at Arthur a little harder. “You’re so good,” he told Arthur, “a great king. We’ll deal with Morgana and then you won’t have to worry anymore.”

Arthur tensed. “Stop,” he said roughly.

Merlin froze. “Am I being too rough?” he asked. He loosened his grip and slowly withdrew his hand. “I thought I was being gentle enough.”

“You were,” said Arthur. “I just don’t want to do this anymore.”

“What?” asked Merlin. “Why?”

Arthur shook his head. “I just don’t, alright?” He grabbed at the sword he had set beside him and set it on his lap once more. He didn’t bother to do up his trousers or belt.

“Was it something I said?” Merlin asked. Arthur wouldn’t look at him. Merlin looked consideringly at the sword that Arthur was clutching. “You’re a great king,” he reiterated. “You care about your people, every last one of them. Your subjects adore you.” He paused so he could take in Arthur’s hunched shoulders and downcast gaze. “You pulled the sword from the stone,” he continued. “You’re worthy of it. I don’t know why you can’t see that.”

“It’s not about if I’m worthy,”  Arthur snapped. Merlin’s eyes went wide and nearby, Percival twitched in his sleep. Arthur’s eyes darted to the knight, then to Merlin again. His gaze finally came to rest on the sword lying across his lap.

Merlin stared at Arthur’s face, the king’s long lashes glinting oddly in the firelight. He was crying, Merlin realized in horror. “What is it about, then?” he asked. His voice came out softer than he’d anticipated, but he didn’t dare to speak any louder. By some miracle everyone else in the camp was still asleep. Merlin wanted to keep it that way.

Arthur swallowed roughly and slowly traced a gloved fingertip along the flat of the blade. “Morgana,” he said. “Whatever else she may be, she’s still my sister and I…” He trailed off and the hand that had been stroking the sword clenched into a fist.

“You might have to kill her,” Merlin realized suddenly. Any remaining trace of arousal was gone now.

Arthur snorted. “Or worse, I might not be able to.”

‘You’re stronger than her,’ sat on the tip of Merlin’s tongue. ‘Of course you can kill her,’ he wanted to say. “You don’t think you could bring yourself to do it,” he said instead.

“I still love her,” Arthur told him. “I’ve tried not to, but I can’t stop. And everytime she does something like this, it’s like the first time all over again.” Arthur shut his eyes tightly, but Merlin could still see the bead of moisture form in the corner of his eye before it absorbed into his lashes. “I don’t know what happened to cause this. I don’t know how I’m supposed to keep this from happening again.”

Merlin shifted closer to Arthur, until they were sitting side by side. He hesitated for a moment before he placed his hand on Arthur’s back, right behind his heart. Arthur sagged beneath his touch and reached up to wipe at his eyes. His gloves got in the way, so Arthur ripped them off and tossed them down beside him. He buried his face in his hands.

Merlin didn’t know what to say. He’d faced similar decisions of his own in the past, although those had been with friends, never family. He’d also had a clearer picture of what had been going on; no one had been trying to protect him by keeping things from him. He fought the urge to squirm. This wasn’t about him right now. It was about Arthur.

“You knew about Agravaine, didn’t you?” Arthur asked. He looked to Merlin.

Merlin shrugged. “I had my suspicions,” he admitted. Arthur’s shoulders hunched. “I wasn’t as close to the situation as you were,” he continued. “I could be more objective.”

Arthur shook his head. “I don’t understand,” he said. “Were they always like this, always hating me and everything I cared about? Did I do something to make them feel this way?”

“This isn’t your fault,” Merlin told him. “Whatever choices they made, they made because of them, not you."

“Morgana uses magic,” Arthur said. “Why would she…”

Merlin rubbed his hand over the length of Arthur’s back. “Morgana doesn’t use magic. She is magic.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Merlin hummed a little as he considered his words. “She didn’t choose to use magic. It’s always been a part of her. She’s always just done it.”

Arthur blinked slowly at him. “I don’t understand.”

“Her dreams,” Merlin said. “The ones Gaius was treating her for. Those were premonitions. She wasn’t trying to have them. They just happened.”

Arthur watched him for a long moment before looking back down at the sword in his lap. “Then all those times I derided magic, condemned those who used it…” he trailed off, bare hands clenching into fists.

“Magic is only as evil as the person who uses it,” Merlin told him. “Anything she’s done with it has been of her own free will.”

Arthur sighed. “She didn’t use to be like that, though. Not that I remember. She was always kind, cared about other people, whether they were nobles or not. She was the one that inspired me to be a better person, more often than not.” He shook his head. “Even if all the evil she’s done has been of her own volition, something happened to change her. What if I contributed to that?”

Merlin frowned. “If anyone forced Morgan into this, it was Morgause and Uther. Morgause was her introduction to using magic on purpose, the person who told her that nothing was wrong with her, and she made sure to share her hatred of your father. And then, of course, there was Uther’s campaign against magic.”

“I was a part of that,” Arthur said quietly. “I led many of those raids, arrested people so that they could be executed. I shouldn’t be surprised that Morgana hates me. I shouldn’t be surprised that any of them do.”

Merlin paused and considered his options. He’d never thought of doing this before, not in any real capacity, but he was beginning to think that the time had come. He removed his hand from Arthur’s back and placed it in his lap. “There’s a prophecy, you know.”

Beside him, Arthur started. “What?”

Merlin didn’t look at him, staring instead into the fire. “The prophecy says that you will be the one to bring magic back to Albion.”

“What?” Arthur asked again.

“It’s not widely known. I don’t think most magic users know about it, but it comes from a reliable source.” If one could call Kilgharrah reliable.

“Merlin,” Arthur asked, “what are you talking about?”

Merlin dared one glance at Arthur’s red rimmed eyes. He looked down at his lap before he could lose his courage. “There’s one part that’s fairly well known, though. Emrys is the most powerful warlock that’s ever been. Everyone thinks that he’ll be able to bring magic back into power.”

Arthur frowned. “I don’t understand. What does Emrys have to do with me?”

“You’re connected,” Merlin told him, “two sides of the same coin. Both of your destinies are irrevocably intertwined.”

Arthur closed his eyes and scrubbed his hands over his face. “This prophecy says that I’m going to meet this Emrys character one day and we’ll bring magic back?”

Merlin shook his head. “You’ve already met him,” he told Arthur. “He’s been helping you for years now.”

“Merlin,” Arthur began.

“Emrys doesn’t hate you,” Merlin said. “There’s no way he could. He loves you, so much.”

Arthur grasped one of Merlin’s hands in his own. “Why are you telling me all this, Merlin? Why do you even know about it?"

Merlin took a deep breath. He let it out. He thought of what he was planning to do, of all the ways it could go wrong, of how he desperately needed to let Arthur know that there were still magical people on his side. He needed to let Arthur know that he was loved. “Sire,” he said, turning to face Arthur. The king looked tired in the firelight, exhausted by the conversation, consumed with worry. Merlin let his magic flow through his veins, turning the iris of his eyes golden. “There’s something I need to tell you.”


End file.
